The Road Death Takes You
by Secrets of a Half Blood
Summary: When the world is dark and everything else seems to blur away, follow the road and you'll find a way back to a sunny place. The story of Gretel's life after Bruno's death.


Hello my lovely readers. I am happy to say this is the first complete story that I have ever written. It was for a grade at school, so I decided to put ever once of heart and soul I had into it and it turned out really well. I know its not extremely long, but its still good; at least I hope it is. Let me know if you like it. **I'm Andrea Moore and I do not own "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas."**

**The Road that Death Takes You: The Final Chapter  
**

It had been two weeks, 3 days and a few hours since Bruno went missing. The clock ticked at an annoyingly slow pace as I packed my clothes in to the suitcases on my bed, my mind wandered back to Bruno as I often glanced at the small brown weather beaten book that was on my desk. I could still remember his small hands laying the book on my bed the day he gave it to me.

"Why are you giving me one of your adventure books?" I asked quite surprised when he pushed the book towards me instead of clutching it protectively over his chest. Bruno stood in front of me. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but it was closed firmly before he could speak. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Bruno shrugged before turning on his heels and walking back out of the room. I was about to shout after him, but he looked over his shoulder still keeping his pace "You look like you needed a little adventure in your life. So now you have one." His small form disappeared through the door before I could reply.

I hugged the book to my chest, allowing the good memories to flood back through me: the smiles, the laughter, even the simpler times.

We were going back to Berlin tonight, due to Mother's desire to escape the memories that haunted the halls. At least that's what she told me. Honestly, I think she hates father. Maybe even blames him for Bruno leaving us. The thought of Bruno leaving made my heart sink further in my chest. A small sting hurts my chest as I think of my baby brother, the only innocent person in my life, walking through the door, hoping to escape the torture of being apart of our family.

"Gretel… Are you ready?" Mother called, pulling me from my thoughts. "Almost," I reply, slightly surprised that all my clothes were packed and organized in my suitcase. I took a long glance around the room, before grabbing my stuff and heading downstairs, hoping to leave all my pain and sorrow behind me.

When I made it down the stairs I notice mother walking away from father's office. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, something she always did when Bruno and I walked in when she was crying. The pain always lingered on her face even with all her effort to remove it. She gave me a gentle smile when she saw my staring at her, a hint of light sparkled in her eyes as walked towards me. It was like all the pain was shedding away with each step she took.

"You all packed?" I nodded surprised by the chipper attitude she had. She was leaving her home and the husband she once loved more than anything, and her face had a glow that could rival the sun. Not that I was against the joy she was feeling, it was just a shock to see the glow that use to adore her features before our world began to crumble around us. With one last look we headed out the door, hoping never to return again.

Berlin wasn't as beautiful as I remembered. The sky was gray and murky. The grass looked fried and all the bright flowers that once brightened gardens hunched over on their sides, losing the life that was once inside of them. Mother didn't seem to be bothered by the looks of the city. Though her smile faded a bit at the sight of the house that was once known to be the best looking house in the city and now looked as grey as the sky, she perked back up again moments later.

"It just needs a little touching up." She smiled parking the car in front of the house. "Think of it as our little adventure into the unknown." I smiled hoping she was right. Like Bruno once told me, I could really use an adventure.

As the months passed the house began to look better. The green was beginning to show in the grass again. The flowers were replaced and new ones took their place, but I knew it wasn't the same as before. Mother may have never mentioned it but she knew it would never be the same for our family.

Sometimes after school I'd come home to find her sitting on her bed looking blankly at the ceiling. Her brown hair looked deflated against the sheets. Her pale skin made her resemble a ghost, which was what she was; the ghost of the women that once shined the entire world with just a small smile. It was as the life was drained out of her, never to be returned again.

There were days where she would barely eat the food I made for her. Only pushed the food around on her plate, and then popping some food into her mouth when I whined in protest and even then it was barely anything.

I knew something was wrong. Her body didn't have any meat on it. There were days when I mistook her for a skeleton when she passed me in the halls or when her eyes were dark and baggy, as if she never went to sleep at night. I hated seeing her like that, but there was nothing I could do to help her. I could only be there for her when she was ready.

A month later, Mother began to look sicker than usual. Her skin was looking whiter than paper. Her hair more looking like strands of straw against her cheeks. I was getting sick of waiting for her to tell me what was wrong, so that night I gathered all of my courage and walked into her room. She was on the chair, staring out the window. It looked like she sat there for days. She probably did.

I carefully walked into the room, hoping not to disturb mother's thoughts. I tried to close the door silently, but a loud creek came from the door, driving mother back into reality.

'Dang door,' I force a smile and turned to face her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." I look down at my feet, trying to regain my nerve. "It's alright." I heard the floorboards squeak as she got up from the chair by the window. "I was just about to come and get you." My heart started pounding against my chest as she came closer to me, chills ran down my spine as her bony fingers grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bed so we could sit.

It was odd being near her for so long. Ever since we got back from Berlin we've been barely even spoken to each other, except for the occasional dinner conversations. Other than that, we barely speak a single word to each other all day.

"So" I said, looking up from my feet as we sat on the bed together. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Mother smiled grimly, this was really worrying me. She took one of hands in both of hers and before I knew it she was saying the last thing I wanted to hear. "Honey, I have some bad news…"

I sat completely still most of the time she spoke. There were only a few words I could process at a time: The doctor said, sick, Father, move back, better for you. Even with those few words I knew my fate. Though it took me a long time to fully digest the situation I understood completely. I was moving back to Auschwitz to live with father because the doctor thought she was too ill to take care of me, which was probably true since it was always me who cleaned up the house and made food for us to eat each night.

"I just can't leave you here." Tears started rolling down my cheeks. "You're the only person I have left." Mother frown, but pulled me into a hug. My head rested against her shoulder while one of her hands rubbed circles on my back soothingly.

"You still have your father." I bit back a bitter laugh not wanting to upset my mother any further. I didn't think about how hard it would be for her, losing both of her kids in the same year.

I nodded against her shoulder trying to keep myself from full out sobbing, which was harder than I thought it would be. "When do I have to leave?" I ask in an even tone, my head still on mother's shoulder as I slowly tried to except the fact that I was returning to the last place I wanted to be.

I stayed in Berlin until the end of the week. The entire time I was either packing or spending as much time as possible with Mother while I still could. I knew it would be hard for me to lose her even though she was saving me from future pain, but I still didn't like the idea of leaving her too.

The train ride was long and boring. I tried to tame my wild thoughts by staring out the window, but there were too many of them swirling around. My head started to throb by the time I was half way there. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat, allowing all my thoughts to consume me, but only thoughts about one man stood out in my mind.

Warmth fled to my cheeks as I thought about the handsome Lieutenant. Even though it had been a long time since I have last seen the blond soldier he still had the same effect on me.

I realize many people would think Lieutenant Kolter was just another childish crush, but he was special to me. I trusted him even if he wasn't "prince charming." He was just a man that needed saving, and in the end he would surely be a man who could save someone. I was sure his end was at the front lines like all the other soldiers that were sent there to fight. Yet a small speck of hope made me believe that he was still alive, that maybe one day I could see his blond hair fall over his ocean blue eyes again, but the rest of me thought the idea was ridiculous. Even if he was alive he wouldn't come back see me. I was just the girl he saw in the hallway, just the bosses' daughter.

I frowned, sinking deeper into my seat as the view outside the window went from thick green trees to gray looking buildings and a sunless sky. The gloominess was starting to sink in again. The world seemed a little less bright as the train brought me back through the tunnel of memories that I had once hope to escape from.

One of father's soldiers was waiting for me at the train station, which I figured would happen. Father always use to use work as his personal escape from pain, why should I have expected anything different from him. I rolled my eyes at the thought of him sitting in his office with his lips pressed firmly together as he made more plans to kill the "animals" or whatever he calls the Jews.

The soldier helped me carry my stuff to the car as I walked slowly behind him trying not to do anything reckless like punch or slap him for working for the horrible man I have to call a father. For so long he tricked me into thinking the Jews were just horrible creatures that didn't deserve to live. A bitter taste came to my mouth at the thought of what I had become not too long ago. An evil, monster that was willing to kill someone else just because they were different.

Thankfully, I successfully made it to the car with my hands clenched in fist by my side. The soldier noticed my discomfort and asked me if I was alright. I nodded flashing him a forced smile which he seemed to believe was real. Or at least I thought he did. He drove quietly through the streets. I could see his eyes glance at me ever now and then, but I kept my head turned to the passenger seat window fully focused on the staying silent the entire car ride to the house.

An hour had passed before the car came to a halt in front of the dusty looking house. My heart was pounding against my chest as I walked to the wooden door. Shivers ran through my body when I turned to knob. I didn't know if he was home yet and the thought of seeing him scared me more than anything.

I hadn't talked to him since the day mother and I left. Not even a letter was sent to him. I'm not sure if it was because I blamed him for Bruno leaving us forever. Or if it was because he was too busy being a brutal human being to even want to talk to me. Either way talking was really an option for us.

"Your father's at a meeting right now" the soldier from the car said as he walking up the stairs. "He said he'll be back in a few hours."

I sigh in relief, following the man into my room and letting him walk outside then close the door behind him. I already knew the conversation between father and me would be uncomfortable, to say the least. I was glad to have a little bit of alone time before he came home.

My room was the just as I remember it. I walked to my bed in the middle of the room and set my bags on top of it. I collapsed next to it, not really caring if something fell off the bed, and tried to release all the stress that built up on the train ride back. My eyes grew heavy and I was too exhausted to even crawl under the covers, so I laid there as me eyelids began to close and hoped I could get enough rest before the inevitable conversation with the man I was some what hoping never to see again.

Even though I was in a different city life didn't really change much for me. I still went to school, if you would consider being tutored by an old man in a room for long period of time school. I wasn't as interested in the lessons as I use to be which the man clearly noted now and then when I stared at him with a blank expression on my face instead of the usual fascinated one. Most gloomy afternoon I would write my thought in a journal and try to cope with the fact that my family was falling apart right before my eyes. Mother wasn't there to comfort me and even if she was I doubt she would be able to. And Bruno was nowhere to be found. And Father wasn't much comfort either.

Most of the time Father was too busy working to talk to me and even when he wasn't doing work, he would often drown away his sorrows with liquor, which seemed to be helping him more than the journal was helping me. The smell of the stuff always lingers around the house, but it's strongest whenever he's coming towards you. Even you can't see him you can always tell how far away he is from you with just a sniff of the air.

It was hard thinking about being alone, but I was getting use to the feeling. On good days the pain was nothing more than a dull feeling burning in my chest and on bad days I usually end up crying into my pillow until I escape reality and went to the world where my family was normal and the innocence we had was never taken away by villains in the world around us.

The air was oddly cold the morning Father called me downstairs for a chat and the nightgown I was wearing wasn't helping keep the chills away. I was already nervous due to the fact I hadn't stepped foot in the room since the day I arrived and the only reason that happened was because Father wanted to lay down the rules before I settled in. I was told only to enter when important matters needed discussing. The soldier that ordered to escort me to the office wasn't helping my nerves at all.

I breathed in slowly trying to calm down a bit before quickly racing down the stairs to the lone office of the end of the hall.

The smell hit me like a ton of bricks causing me to halt right in front of the door. The soldier didn't seem to be bothered by the smell, probably because he wasn't always in there discussing important matters. When we reached the door was both came to a halt. I had my hands to my sides trying to stop my nose from burning due to the sudden change as the soldier knocked on the door. Father called me in and the soldier opened the door so I could enter. Even though I wasn't fully prepared for what was waiting for me, I walked inside ready to get the entire thing over with so I could disappear underneath my ocean of covers and let my pain slowly drown away in my dreams.

Was Mother really dead? It was hard to tell with the blank look on Fathers face as he told me the news, but it would explain the empty bottles of liquor that littered most of his desk. I could tell he was taking it as hard as I was, even though he didn't want to show it. His dark hair was messy and looked uncombed. His normally pressed suit looked wrinkled and dirty as he sat up stiffly his the chair. Even when he talked he sounded almost as dead as he looked.

It took all my heart and soul not to break down right on front of him. The world started spinning fast and my head was feeling lighter by the second as he spoke. My heart was beating too hard to even try to listen to Father speak, so I looked down at the father's table hoping to find something to keep me distracted until I was alone in my room, able to grieve in peace.

After a few minutes of scanning the desk, I was about to give up until a familiar name caught my eye. The name 'Lieutenant Kurt Kolter' stood out on the white envelope beside my chair. It must have fallen off before I got there. Thoughts began to form in my head as I reached down and took the envelope in my hands. Had Father been talking to Kolter? Have they been talking for long? Was he still at the address on there? My head had started to hurt from all the thinking, in addition to all the pain the news brought me; I was looking for a distraction so I ignored the dull throb coming from my head.

By the time Father finished talking I was still wondering why Father would want to write to Lieutenant Kolter in the first place, especially after Father sent him to the front lines, to even notice the silence.

"Gretel," the sound of him calling my name completely pulled me out of my thoughts. I slid the envelope into my long sleeve and crossed my arms so he wouldn't see it. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, straightening up in my seat wiping imaginary tears from my eyes with the hand that didn't hide the envelope. "I'm fine, Father." He looked at me one more time before grabbing the almost empty glass in front of him and taking another sip of the liquid. "Alright then, you may go."

I nod again, and hurry out of the door, not waiting for the soldier to follow me back to room. That night I laid in bed, crying for the first time in months, the envelope safely hidden beneath my pillow for no one but me to find.

A few days passed since I found the envelope and I still wasn't sure what to do with it. Early that morning, one of the soldiers informed me Father would not be back for the entire day due to some business out of town, so I decided after breakfast I would do figure out what I was going to do with it. A took a while before I thought a letter would be the idea.

I sat on my bed with the envelope in my hands, eyes narrowed as I began to think about what I wanted to write. Kolter probably wouldn't remember me if I wrote him a letter. Even if he did he would probably just think I was the child who had a crush on him, not an old friend. I still wanted to write the letter, even with all the possibilities running through my mind. So I grabbed a pen and paper from the desk and sat down.

Before the pen touched the paper another thought formed in my head: Why would I want to write to him in the first place?

Kolter had a past. He hated it and the hate drove him to cause people pain. He was alone. He had no family to love. He needed me just like I needed him, but whether or not he is willing to be saved was up to him.

I looked down at the paper and began to write, allowing my emotions to flow into the paper with every word that I scribbled.

I was surprised to find a letter on my bed after I got back from the city a few days later. I was even more surprised to find out it from Kurt. Yes, he said I could call him that. Too happy for words I dropped all my stuff on the floor and started reading the letter he sent me. He was really sweet, which I didn't expect from him. I never knew that side of him existed until that day. It was strange and refreshing at the same time.

After I finished reading it, I carefully folded the letter, putting it back into the envelope then hiding it underneath my pillow. I didn't want to write him back until after dinner so I could think of more things to say, which was a good idea except for the fact Father noticed how giddy I was during dinner. Every time he asked I had to act like I didn't know what he was talking about and that act only went for so long.

After dinner I ran upstairs, ignoring the suspicious looks coming from my Father and closed the door behind me. The coast was clear, so I grabbed some paper and my pen, leaving the envelope under the pillow just in case someone walked in before I could finish writing.

Father's eyes still burned into my skin. He could tell I was up to something but didn't know what exactly. He would have confronted me about the letter if he knew I had taken it from his office. Or maybe he found the letter on my bed while I was gone earlier. I didn't want to think Father's reaction, so I continued to write, telling the story of my life to man that would later receive it.

Kurt and I had gotten closer after a few months of writing to each other. It was unexpected for me because when I first started writing to him I wasn't hoping to have a romantic relationship with him. Just after a while, the letters were getting sweeter than the last one. Even after just a few weeks I was starting to think my crush was developing into something more than that. I wasn't really sure, but I was starting to think it was love.

Most people would say I was too young to be thinking about such a thing and the fact that I was in love with an older guy would freak people out, but the feeling never went away. The only thing that really scared me was what Father would say if he found out about our relationship or even about the box of letters hidden safely under my bed. Knowing my father he would probably send all of his soldiers to kill my lover in his home and then tell me he died in battle so I wouldn't be angry with him sounds just like something Father would do.

Father came home right after I sent another letter to Kurt. His car had just pulled into the driveway after the person that dealt with the mail carried it away in his bag. Though he gave me an odd look for standing alone outside, he didn't ask me any questions. He just continued to walk inside, leaving me to sigh in relief behind him.

It wasn't long before Kurt told he loved me. I was so surprised I blinked at the paper until my eyes started to get blurry from reading too hard. I thought it was a mistake, so I asked him if it was true. He responded back with words I never thought he would say. He loved me and he didn't care about anyone else but me. I was the only one he wanted and he wanted to show me how much he loved me when he comes to Auschwitz.

I was kind of nervous at the last part, but other than that I was excited to see him again. I was actually going to kiss, to hold him, to show him how much I needed him. After every letter I wrote to him, I felt like all the feeling that was hurting my chest suddenly fled me allowing me to feel human again. And when I read his letters he made me feel loved, like was worth something.

He told me he would be coming in a week and to be prepared to see how much he loved me. I went to sleep that night with butterflies in my stomach. My heart pounded in my chest as I dreamed of how he would show me his love when the time had come.

The room was silent as I laid my head on Kurt's chest, listening to his heart beat as we sat on the couch together.

Father wasn't supposed to be home for a few hours, so I thought it would the perfect time to spend with him. Having a workaholic father makes having a secret relationship with a man a lot easier, except for the fact you're always worried about getting caught. Since it was our last day together I decided not to worry about getting caught and spend time with the one I love while I still had the chance.

For a while we started talking about life and what we wanted our future to be like, then after a few hours of talking we started making out on the couch. I enjoying the kiss so much, I didn't notice the keys jingling in the door and the large man entering the house until his powerful voice boomed through the room. We pulled apart, which took some time because our legs were tangled together.

My heart started pounding as Father glared at us from the doorway. Kurt grabbed my hand, squeezing it lightly to try to make me feel better. The small comfort stopped working as his heavy feet stomped closer to the couch. He grabbed the front of Kurt's shirt and pulled him up from his seat. He started walking to the door, dragging my love with him. I tried to stop him. I grabbed him by the back of his coat and pulled as hard as I could as tears rolled down my cheeks as I asked him to stop.

Kurt kept saying everything was going to be okay, but I didn't stop pulling. I didn't want him to be taken away too. He was the only one I had left. He was the only one that kept me from sinking into a world of depression. I would go crazy without him. For a second, I thought I saw Father look at me from over his shoulder. His eyes turned soft for a second before returning to the hard look that tainted his eyes before, but my sight was blurry from crying so much I couldn't tell if what I saw was real.

Father continued walking to door. I was about to ask him to stop again until he yanked me off his coat and pushed me away from the door. He closed it behind him after ordering the soldiers that escorted him out of town to block it. They were too strong for me to get fast, so I fell to my knees letting the watch my cry the pain away. They didn't move, only stood stiffly above me, not sure how to comfort the crying girl that was in front of them.

I didn't talk to Father after that incident. Every time we passed I matched his cold features knowing it would bother him. I even sat quietly at dinner pushing food around on my plate instead of eating it, just like Mother did. He would watch me for a while, his mouth slightly open like he wanted to protest but then he would stop himself and return to his dinner. I always wondered why he didn't say anything. My guess was he was afraid I would say something that would cut his heart in half, which I probably would have if I was angry enough.

Some days I would consider asking Father what he did with Kurt because the usual letters stopped coming. Even when I sent them he would never respond back. I was starting to think he said something to push him away, to make him think he wasn't good enough for me and just the thought made me want to cry my eyes out.

It wasn't until after a month of silence from Kurt I started to crack. I marched downstairs with purpose in every step I took. My strides were long and firm as I walked to the forbidden office where Father had sneaked off to earlier that day. The sound of glass and the pouring of liquid confirmed he was still there.

I knocked on the door and waited, trying to keep my cool. Father called me inside and I opened the door slowly watching his eyes widen in surprise as I walked inside then closing the door behind me. His eyes went back to normal size after as he straightened up in his seat, hiding the bottle of alcohol behind his desk and trying to look presentable.

He said he was just about to call end someone for me, which took me by surprise. The calm that took me so long to build was slowly dissolving around me. "Why? Did something happen?" I sat down too dazed to stand anymore. The frown on his face sent shivers up my spine and thought run circles inside my head.

"Did something happen to him…?" my voice died down at the end as I grew numb all over. His lips pressed together into a thin line, his hands gripping the glass full of alcohol that was in front of him. "He's dead." The words stabbed me in the heart like an arrow. I looked down at my lap trying not to cry, but my head shot back up as I felt large arms wrap around me.

Father was hugging me tightly in his arm, rubbing circles on back. I wanted to scream and push him away, but I realized something before I could. I was alone. I had no one else to love me. No one else can save me from the pain that gripped my heart with its claws.

Father seemed to figure out what I was thinking and held me even closer to him. I could feel his breath against my face as he whispered the words that finally made me break into tears and fall back into the arms of the man I thought I would never love again: "I'm here, Gretel. I'll always be here, no matter what happens."

Father held my hand during the funeral. Even though we were the only people there along with other soldiers that fought along side of him, it was really special. I held the letters I wrote to him against my chest, not wanting to let them go until the end of the service.

Father went to Kurt's house to get them after I told him how much they meant to me, I was grateful to have someone that was willing to do that. At the end of the funeral, right before they closed the casket, Father and I walked to front together. He stopped a few feet away, kissing the top of my head before letting go of my hand so I could have my time to grieve.

I walked up slowly, gripping the letters with both of my hands. He looked the same as he was alive, except for the bluish-grey tent that was all over the parts of the body that wasn't covered by his clothes. For a second, I thought he would jump up and start laughing, like he playing a trick on me, but he never moved a muscle.

I lightly grabbed his ice cold hand and moved it high enough for me to slide the letters over his chest, before setting it down over them, so he could hold them in his arms until the end of time.

A single tear fell down my cheek as I whispered a final goodbye into the coffin before leaving my old world behind and walking towards the new adventure that the my new world had in store.

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**Thank you for reading my story and I look forward to writing more in the future. **

**See you then! This is Andrea Moore, signing out.**


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